


my dungeon shook

by poalimal



Category: Watchmen (TV 2019)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, No Sex, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:20:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22638289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poalimal/pseuds/poalimal
Summary: AU. Senator Joe Keene, Jr. takes a hands-on approach during the long White Night, tagging along when the Kalvary break into the Abar home. Angela is eventually disarmed and knocked unconscious; Cal teleports Keene all the way to Tempe.The Kalvary assume that Angela, not Cal, is Dr Manhattan.
Relationships: Angela Abar & Joe Keene Jr., Angela Abar/Dr. Manhattan
Kudos: 13





	my dungeon shook

  
_Tick. Tick. Tick._

When she opened her eyes, all was dark and spinning; suffocating, like breath underwater. Her throat was dry, but she could breathe, she could swallow. She did not try to talk or move - she knew she was not alone. 

'Thank God,' said Keene, quiet, leaning over her. He must have been waiting for her to wake. 'Thank God you're ok.' 

Angela breathed through her mouth, shallow, the smell of him thick in her nose otherwise. She took in the blood dripping dry down the side of his face, the open collar on his shirt; and she remembered. 

Blake taking out the man with a bomb. The Senator finding her in the chaos that followed, trying to thank her for saving his life. Three white news vans throttling through the police barricade and up into the cemetery, Kalvary spilling out everywhere like roaches. Taking down as many of them as she could without any weapons, then--

a blunt pain, on the back of her head. Crumpling to the ground. 

Then - nothing. 

And now: a suffocating room she didn't recognise. A man she didn't want anywhere near her.

'Too close,' she grunted. 

Keene sat back at once. Angela pushed herself up against the wall more slowly than she needed to, eyeing Keene from under her lids. She scooted away from him, stopped short before she could get too far by the fucking _chain_ around her ankle. Where'd the fucking Kalvary get this kind of shit from?

She could guess where they got some of their funding from, at least.

At least the concrete floor and wall felt cool, albeit clammy, to the touch. She felt for the back of her head gingerly, wincing when her fingers met the weeping bump behind her ear. 

'How long was I out for?' Her voice was hoarse and strained.

'Ah-- an hour? maybe two,' Keene said, glancing at his watch. Is that where that ticking sound was coming from? Why was it so goddamn loud? 'You woke up in the van once, on the way over. Or at least, that's what it sounded like. Do you remember that?' 

She did not. Realistically, this probably meant she'd woken up so briefly it hadn't even registered as significant to her brain. But she could also be delirious from the trauma to her head - the way the heat was affecting her even from just sitting up, she'd be unwise to discount it. She could have a massive concussion... a bleed in her brain... or something else that would require, at a minimum, a calm head in order to survive. 

She shut her eyes carefully, taking in several slow, deep breaths. The heat really was immense. When she could breathe again normally, she opened her eyes, ignoring Keene's gaze, and started to take in her surroundings. 

Outside the cramped little circle of clear floor she and Keene had been locked into, beyond the rows of scattered boxes and cluttered shelves, there lay a single squat window over in the corner, its smeary little pane the only thing letting in any light. And the light wasn't even all that bright. Was it just general filth that made the light so dim? She wondered. Or had it been more than a few hours?

Keene could be lying about her waking up, she figured. He could be lying about how long it had been. That way, she'd have a false sense of time and distance, and she wouldn't be able to easily figure out where they were.

She wrinkled her nose, taking another look around the room. There was something-- strange about this place. Something off.

Well. Time to figure out how much of the truth Keene was willing to tell. 'Where are we?'

'I don't know,' said Keene, still talking in that careful hush. 'We were blindfolded the whole way... We might be on a mountain somewhere. We were driving up a pretty long time.'

Angela fought the urge to roll her eyes. 'Cut the shit, Senator. The sooner you tell me where your Klan buddies have us stashed, the sooner we can both get out of here.'

Keene paused. His scent surged with something that smelled like-- satisfaction? Angela began breathing through her mouth again. 

'You're an intelligent woman, Ms Abar,' said Keene, finally, calm and appraising. 'If I were in league with the Seventh Kalvary, do you really think they'd have stuck me down in this filthy basement with you?'

'You tell me,' Angela said evenly. 'You got one of their members killed, didn't you, Senator? Can't imagine they're too happy about that.'

Keene smiled. 'You interrogating me, Ms Abar?' He was really laying on the drawl thick there. 'I'm hurt. And so soon after you saved my life.'

'I didn't save _anything_ ,' said Angela. 'I just didn't let you die. Just like you didn't let me die. We're even, that's all.' 

Keene stared at her closely, still with that vague smile on his face. 'Ms Abar... we met for the first time at Judd Crawford's wake. What do you imagine I've saved you from?' 

'On White Night,' she said evenly. She watched him closely for any reaction - Keene didn't even blink. 'You forgot to wear your blockers. Guess you thought it wouldn't matter. And maybe it doesn't matter to you. But if you really think I'm not going to recognise the smell of the Alpha who almost killed me? You're even stupider than I thought.' 

She leaned forward, staring deep into his eyes. 'So I'll ask again - where. are. we?'

Keene shook his head gently, holding her gaze firm. He seemed-- amused, if anything. Totally unbothered. 

'Y'know I, I heard the rumours, Sister, but you--you really are something else,' he said. She bristled - he held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture that only served to piss her off more. 'But ok. Let's pretend you're right for a second. Let's say I... secretly am a member of the Kalvary... for reasons unknown. Let's say I... broke into your house that night.' His voice warm and rasping as he shifted closer, the chain around his ankle clanking soft and slow. Somehow she couldn't move from her spot against the wall. 'And I saw you and your little Beta dancing in front of your Christmas tree. Let's say I found it sweet. Let's say you killed my partner. Mm... not so sweet.' His voice was almost a physical touch, as he leaned into her space. Her fists clenched reflexively. 

'Let's say you tried to fight me... let's say you almost won,' his voice sing-song and slow, 'but-when-you-lost... going down on your back, and showing me your belly. Submitting, so sweetly. To me. Wouldn't that be something?'

Angela bared her teeth in warning. 'You know good and goddamn well I never submitted to you.'

'Well, let's say you know this,' said Keene, shrugging, 'and let's even say that I know this. Suppose that really is the case, though... don't you think you should be more careful? I know your Mama must have warned you about taunting Alphas 'fore she died.'

Angela went for his neck before he could react, tugging in with her teeth until he went still. She kept her tongue at the back of her mouth; still the taste of him came to her, salty and scared and strange. 

Something sharpened within her: a thought, a conviction. She should just rip his throat out. It wouldn't have been a challenge: her incisors were sharper now, she could protect herself. She could feel his heart pumping with her teeth, she could smell his growing fear. He was weak and unhelpful. Besides, she would need the calories.

It was this last thought that convinced her she was going into heat. After all those years of trying, of careful, useless tracking of her cycle, all it really took was one extraordinarily stressful event to kick her body out of whack.

But for the shallow breaths rising rapid in his chest, Keene held himself very still. He tilted his head down; took in a deep, shivering breath. Their faces near touched. He was sweating now, she scented: he didn't just smell like fear anymore.

'You gonna kill me, then?' Keene asked quietly.

Angela thought about it - she bit into his neck more sharply till he went taut, grunting low in his throat. She licked the area clean, for it had started to bleed, then shoved him hard, backwards. Keene went back easy, and he used his whole body to slide and sit up away from her, the chain round his own ankle the only thing that prevented him from moving back further.

He looked back at her closely, eyes dark and watchful. Could he smell her already? Did he know?

'That was a warning,' said Angela. Her lips were cracked and dry, and so she licked them wet. 'If the Kalvary wanted either of us dead, we would be dead. They want something first, and I have to figure out what it is so that they don't kill us trying to get it. So if you're not a part of this, and you're not going to be helpful, just sit over there and shut up.'

Keene raised an eyebrow at her. 'If I'm as important to the Kalvary as you think I am,' he said, 'don't you think you oughta watch how you talk to me?'

Angela smiled. 'Well, you can't be all that important,' she said. 'After all, they stuck you down here in this filthy basement with me, didn't they?'

'Well,' said Keene, still with that faint, fake smile, 'I suppose you're right about that.' 

He was still sweating. The smell of his growing anxiety made her nose itch and her heart rate slow. Somehow it gave her a small measure of strength, seeing his confidence shaken, even if she couldn't see the reason for it. 

Truthfully, it looked bad for them both...though obviously it looked a lot worse for her than him. While he probably had specific plans in place with his security team in case of an abduction, the closest thing to a concrete plan she had so far was knocking over the boxes she could reach with her arms and legs until something capable of cutting through a crusted-over chain fell out. So - she had next to nothing. Less than nothing.

Somehow... somehow it was hard for her to think. Today felt like a day where it was easier to shove a casket over a bomb than it was to think about how-- how the man inside the casket-- how maybe everyone she'd ever known... had deceived her. For years and years.

Slow, deep breaths - slow, deep breaths. She wouldn't think about that, then. Not yet. No, instead she would focus on how the fuck she was supposed to get out of here.

If the kidnappers would at least give some kind of hint as to what they wanted, it would give her something to _think_ about, something that wasn't her impending and absurdly implausible heat. That her life was at risk, even if Keene's was not, was undeniable. That her abductors had not opened a dialogue yet was still very strange. That no one had come to check on them at all since she'd woken was completely fucking ominous.

More than that... why hadn't anything happened when she'd threatened Keene? Any hypothetical bad blood aside, Keene was clearly a lot more valuable to the Kalvary than she was. If there'd been anybody watching them, they should've interrupted her long before she could even consider ripping his throat out. It didn't make sense to leave Keene alive and alone with her.

Angela raised her head slowly. She watched Keene swallow, she heard his throat click; he met her stare.

 _Tick. Tick. Tick_.

It just, she thought, didn't make sense. 

'Before you say anything,' said Keene, 'just listen to me first.'

Angela tilted her head. 'Where's the key?'

'Can you--fucking just listen? I'm tryna save your life here,' said Keene. It sounded like he was trying to keep his voice steady. She didn't know who the performance was for - there were clearly no cameras here.

'I didn't ask you to save my life,' said Angela. She tugged at the chain around her ankle until she felt a pop - and then she was free. (' _Jesus_ ,' said Keene.) 'I asked you where the key is.'

'Look, it's over, Angela,' said Keene, as she began to drag herself towards him, 'the Kalvary knows you're Dr Manhattan! They want to kill you, and take your powers.'

Angela paused, leaning hard on her arms. Her breath was thinning out rapidly - the pain and shock were catching up with her now. She needed to get to Keene quickly, and get that key off of him. She needed the key for something, something-- if only it weren't so damned hard to think! 

' _You_ want Dr Manhattan's powers,' she guessed.

'I'm not going to lie about that, I do!' said Keene, quickly. 'But I want a legacy first.' He took in a deep breath, shaking his head. 'I want children who can fly. Who can--who can see other worlds!' He laughed softly. Angela's head was pounding, her face was pouring sweat. There was no way she could move her leg - no way now she could hope to protect herself against whatever he planned to do with her. 'I want that for them, Angela - and I think we can give that to each other.'

Angela slumped down on the floor and tried to catch her breath. Hearing Jon's voice in her head: _I would never pass my abilities onto someone without their consent._

'--But Joe,' she said, 'what about your wife?'

Keene froze - and the peppery smell of his desire swallowed up the room. 'That would just be for appearance's sake,' he murmured. 'Don't you see? You would be mine - and I would protect you.'

'I don't feel safe,' said Angela. Her breath caught in her throat - she bared her neck as best she could, slipping slowly into the shame and submission. 'I feel scared.'

With his chain, Keene scooted closer until he could lean over her, carefully rearranging her body until she was slumped, exhausted, against him, leaning into his side. She smelled his sparking arousal, she felt his heat - she saw in his face echoes of the concern, the care he must show to the people he respected.

'You don't have to feel scared,' Keene whispered. He must have felt her shaking - he must have believed what he was saying. 'You don't have to do a thing. Ok? I'll take care of you now.'

Angela took in a sharp, bracing breath - and then she ripped his throat out with her teeth.

The blood was nauseatingly warm and coppery; it got in her mouth, down the front of her shirt, all over her hands. She held Keene as he bled out, gasping and gurgling in shock. She watched him die: she felt nothing but her heart beat.

He died quickly - his blood kept coming. Angela had absolutely no strength left in her body. She could not hope to push him off of her, or crawl away herself. Keene had been her only way out of this place - wherever this was - and she had killed him.

And now she would never see Cal or Emma or Topher or Rosie again. Cal--no, Jon would be in danger, but she'd never get the chance to warn him. She'd never get a chance to cuss the shit out of wily ass Will Reeves. To take Judd's memory to justice. She would die here, all alone - and she would never know the point of any of it.

'Jon,' she whispered. Her voice broke. It felt like every part of her was shaking apart.

Wait - was that the ground she heard rumbling? She paused to listen.

With a great groan, the ceiling ripped in half and peeled away. Jon appeared in the skies, floating above her - blue once more, and glowing. For a moment Angela just stared up at him in shock.

'I heard you call me,' said Jon, floating down to her. He had a noose around his neck, she saw. His clothes-- _Cal's_ clothes were ripped terribly, and covered in blood and soot. 'I am here now.'

Angela began to cry. 'Oh, baby,' she said, 'what did they _do_ to you?'

'They woke me up,' said Jon calmly, lifting Keene up and away from her. He touched her ankle and the back of her head, and they did not hurt anymore. She threw her arms around his neck, and breathed him in. He smelled like fire and blood - he smelled like Cal, if Cal had died in fear and pain and agony. Angela held him tight against her, and wept like a child. 

'I do not believe the Kalvary meant to,' Jon was saying. 'They were mistaken as to my true identity. I believe they thought I was more trouble than I was worth after a while.'

Angela gulped down her anger before it could consume her. 'And the kids?' she managed, catching her breath before it could get away from her again. 'Where are the kids?'

Jon paused. 'They are safe. They will be safe. And you will be, too.' He nuzzled the top of her head, scenting her; she shut her eyes tight and let the tears run down her cheeks. 'Are you hungry? I can make you something.' Angela just shook her head: _no-no-no_. 'You should eat while you can, Angela. We are running out of time.'

They were always running out of something. 'I want,' said Angela, 'to go home.'

Jon nodded slowly, and scooped her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing. 'I can take you home.'

'Please,' said Angela, leaning into his chest. She closed her eyes as they rose out of the rubble, she ignored the scent of chlorine - she did not want to know where Keene had taken her. She did not need to see his body to know that there was nowhere that was safe for her anymore. That maybe there never had been.

She would need to answer for what had happened here today. She would need answers - and she would get them. But for now she fell asleep, bruised and exhausted, in the arms of her husband. For now - she had time.

**Author's Note:**

> \- In this universe, Keene would die before Looking Glass was pushed into spying on Angela, before Angela took her grandfather Will's Nostalgia pills, before Jane Crawford admitted her family's affiliations with the Kalvary to Laurie Blake, before Adrian Veidt was melted and, significantly, before Lady Trieu completed work on the Millennium Clock (and possibly her quantum centrifuge?). This would change the timeline of events quite a bit!  
>   
> \- I do not believe we ever see any indication in the show that Keene is married. I wasn't entirely certain which was less likely: that an American Senator would run for President without getting married first, or that a semi-important *racist politician would go to his death without his wife even being named and present.  
>   
> \- Stop me if you've heard this one before:  
>   
>  _[F]or this is your home, my friend. Do not be driven from it. Great men have done great things here and will again and we can make America what America must become. It will be hard, James, but you come from sturdy peasant stock, men who picked cotton, dammed rivers, built railroads, and in the teeth of the most terrifying odds, achieved an unassailable and monumental dignity. You come from a long line of great poets, some of the greatest poets since Homer. One of them said,_ The very time I thought I was lost, my dungeon shook and my chains fell off. __  
>  _You know, and I know, that the country is celebrating one hundred years of freedom one hundred years too early. We cannot be free until they are free. God bless you, James, and Godspeed._


End file.
